Static Fat
I weighed almost 310 pounds. 310 pounds of fat. 310 pounds of anchors. I couldn't do anything, go anywhere. I couldn't eat around people or use the bathroom. Anything I did, my fat traveled with me. The rolls just kept sweating and sweating, and I just kept sitting and sitting. I was so tired. So tired of the nothingness that filled my world. I... was sick of it. The one time... probably going on a year and a half now, I was having some massive troubles at home. It seemed like every night my mother yelled. And her boyfriend... well... he yelled too. Things were getting a bit out of control, so I sneaked around the corner to check out what was going on. He had my mother by the hand and was about to throw her down the stairs. I ran to her and tried to tug her back from his arms. He pushed me, very hard, into the hallway behind me. It hurt like hell. "Get the hell out of here. You stupid fatass!" he said, letting my mom go. I was happy she didn't get hurt. But his words began to tear deeper and deeper into me. He left, thank god, and I went back into my room. I didn't go to sleep that night because my mother's crying seemed to never end. There was also that remark that remained in the back of my mind. I was angry. So angry that he said that to me. I wanted to get back at him. But then again... I wanted to get back at all of them. My life was a constant skipping record. Except sometimes the voices changed. A lot of people in school made fun of me. Hell even some family members had a few remarks here and there. After a while I got the thought in my head the maybe I should lose weight. Maybe I'd lose the hatred. But every time I tried I fell down deeper and deeper into depression. Maybe I'd get a salad in the cafeteria here and there. No. The onslaught only got worse. So much worse. They fed off of me trying. They knew I'd crack. After a while I decided to stop. It was always the same... the same static broadcast. But this time it was more personal than ever. My mother was involved. It was around 11:30 PM whenever I decided to take a jog/walk. I wanted to do it at night so no one would see me do it. I'd exercise in the darkness from now on. I jogged until I lost my breathe, then walked. Over and over again. It felt good being out this late. It was nice and cool, so it felt pretty good whenever I jogged a little. The air cooled me off nicely. Fat people sweat a lot, I know. I decided to do a nice route around my house. If I did this every night, maybe I could expand it a little more. But I just wanted to see if I could do it. I did it. It was actually pretty easy actually. Finally I got back to my porch. All the lights were off, so I tried being as quite as I could. It was pretty tough, mostly because I was breathing pretty heavily. Nontheless I was able to get to the kitchen where I drank a glass of water from the faucet. It was refreshing. I felt good. Runner's high? I don't really know. Honestly I don't think I ran that hard. I glanced out the window and I thought I saw something... Someone with a sweatshirt walking on the sidewalk. It was fast, like, really really fast. Curiosity got to me so I glanced form the side of the window. There was nothing there, so I decided not to worry about it. Why would I anyways? I went to sleep pretty fast that night. The next day was the same as any other. My mother seemed to be all right. She said that today was going to be a rest day for her. I said my love yous and headed out the door. School was the same. Not a lot of people picked on me, weirdly enough. It's sad to say that you're so used to being made fun of... that you actually notice it not happening. It didn't matter anyways. All I cared about was the night. I could run free through the streets, past their houses, past everyone. Nobody could see me. It's so freeing... the freedom a slave feels after he runs away. The second night, I decided to go a different route. It was time to stay out a bit longer. Now that I knew I could do it, I was pretty fired up. I threw on a sweatshirt and snuck out quietly. I went and stopped, went and stopped. It was a little chillier that night. I could almost see my breath. To think that this is happening. I'm losing weight! No one knows! I'm going to just show up one day, and they wont have anything to make fun of! God that freedom ruled. On the other side of the road, on the sidewalk parallel to me was a man... I think I man in a sweatshirt. I immediately erased the smile off my face and tried not to look at him. This was definitely the person I saw out of my kitchen window. He had his hood up so I couldn't see his face. His arms were dug into his pockets, and he walked like he was hiding something. A corner was up ahead, so I decided to take it. He crossed the road and kept walking. I didn't want to jump to conclusions... but it definitely seemed like he was following me. I told myself it was just a coincidence. He kept turning and turning, everywhere I went! Everywhere I turned he was there, I couldn't see his face, was he staring at me?! Was he? Was he? Was he? Corner after god damn corner. It was a rush of fear. A fear like no other. He was so silent... so silent! He didn't make any noise, even over gravel. What the hell is going on? I was running out of sanity. So I finally began jogging again. Just jog. Just jog and forget he's even there. He doesn't matter. I was closer to me house. I ran and ran. Almost there! Almost fucking there! I didn't even care about being quiet going in. I ran inside and closed the door, then I locked it. I ran up my stairs and into my room. Fear coursing through my veins. I was in a cold sweat. My window was open. I heard a voice. These were that person's words. "That was fun. I can't wait until next time." Next time? There can't be a next time. Next time means more of him. Unlike the other night, I couldn't go to sleep. I stayed up all night trying to watch tv. Replaying those words over and over again. That was fun. I can't wait until next time. That was fun. I can't wait until next time. That was fun. I can't wait until next time. The morning came, and I looked out the window with red watery baggy eyes. The sun showed through the curtains and I drew back. Today was going to suck. Hardcore suck. The same happened again. Of course I looked like shit that day, so the name calling began as soon as a walked in the school. Today was going to suck. At lunch I ate my usual amount. (I'd skip dinner that night.) Anything to stop them making fun of me. A few guys to the left of me gave me all of their used lunch trays. "Finish the scraps fatty." "N-no. Just leave me alone plea-" "Shut up and finish the scraps! Be a good pig!" "NO!" I screamed and threw the trays on the floor. I ran back to the classroom. Today sucked. As I ran I heard one of them say something. "Damn... he can actually run fast." His friend then said something, "Must be a cake down there or something." They laughed and I cried. I got home and threw myself on my bed face first. Today sucked so bad... so freaking bad. I don't feel like even thinking about it. I just want to go to sleep. And then I thought of it. I wanted food. No no no. I don't need food. I'm not even hungry. It kept nagging at me. No no please. I don't need any food. I'm just sad is all. ...I gave in and ate a few sandwiches. Today sucked. That night I sat watching tv again. My alarm went off on my cell phone. I forgot I set an alarm to let me know when it was time to go for a walk. I looked at it for about 5 seconds and turned it off. Taking a walk? I remembered that guy in the sweatshirt. I heard someone come in. It was my mom's boyfriend, so big surprise. They get into fights all the time and get back together the next day. The routine of it all made me sick. And then I remembered the harsh words he spoke to me just a few days before. Get the hell out of here. You stupid fatass! I clenched my fists and stood up. It was hard. I was so tired because I got absolutely no sleep the night before. I struggled and walked out to the living room. I wasn't used to running that much. My legs were in pain. They were both sitting there with their arms around each other. It made me sick. "Mom... I'm going out for a walk." I said looking at the ground. "Going for a walk? Do you know how late it is?: "Yes, mom." "Absolutely not-" "I'm just walking around the block. That's all. Just to get a little fresh air." "Well... all right. Be careful." I once again put my sweatshirt on and slowly made my way to the door. God damn this day sucked. I went on a different route. Maybe he wouldn't find me then. Honestly I couldn't even think of why I was out there. Why was I doing this again? I was so in fear. I probably ran faster that night, just so I can get it done faster. My mother's boyfriend. That's why I'm out here. Everyone at school too. They're all the reason for it. And then it happened. Just as soon as I thought of all of those people, that why was on the other side of the road. "Come on fatass. Let's go. COME ON FATASS!" I ran faster and faster. He was faster than me. A lot faster. I finally said something to him, "Let me alone! Let me alone!" I said it over and over again. I was already out of breath and couldn't take too much more of it. I closed my eyes and kept saying it. And then I tripped. My knee took most of the fall. It was all cut up. It hurt pretty badly. As I limped home I was still thinking about all of those people who treat me like trash... all of those people want to see me fail. I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction. I finally got home. That person was there every single night. It's too much to type out in detail, so I'm just going to list the most terrible encounters off by date. 18th, 2006. 12:37 AM. I took another route. He found me and started throwing gravel at me. 27th, 2006. 11:02 PM. As soon as I left my house he was on the other side of the road waiting for me. 7th, 2006. 2:46 AM. I stayed out a little later. He didn't show up so I thought he was gone for good. I was wrong. He decided to start skipping and taunting me. 15th, 2006. 12:56 AM He showed up about two hours in... he was silent the whole time. Which probably made it even worse. Whenever I got to my house, he just kept walking and turned the corner. It was November. It didn't snow yet but it was completely freezing out. He showed up in the same sweat shirt. I could see my breath but not his. He spent this time talking under his breath. "Fatass... stupid pig bitch. Fat fuck..." were just a few words I heard. It went on for about a half an hour. I stopped and he slowed a little and then stopped. I took out my phone and took this photo. I know, it's blurry as hell but I wanted some evidence. Maybe someone in my area has seen him before? I don't know. After a took the photo he said, "People are going to love that photo. Because I'm not a lardass." I got angry... "SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP! You've been doing this to me for two fucking months! Leave me alone!" He started walking towards me. I backed up as far as I could. "You know what I want?!" Each word was spoken by a different voice. "I want you to give up and die from a heart attack!" Every single word was spoken by someone I knew... people who made fun of me. Some from school, my mom's boyfriend and even my own voice. They took their hood off. The head was... glitching in and out... like a television screen. All static. The face was changing. Switching on and off. They were the faces of the people I hated... the people who wanted me to give up. He started running at me. "GIVE UP! GIVE UP! GIVE UP!" All of the voices were talking now, perfectly aligned. He started running at me, still screaming for me to give up. I took another photo. "NO!" I screamed. I was crying and was looking up at the sky. I was on my knees. A car passed by and went through him... he disappeared. I was breathing heavily and had snot and tears running down my face. It was cold and I felt very uncomfortable. I got up and noticed the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was laying where he disappeared. I grabbed it. It's even more proof. I ran back home. Here's the photo of the sweatshirt. Again, my phone's camera wasn't very good. After that moment... after that walk I never saw him again. I walked at night for about three more months. Nothing. No one that even looked like him. He was gone. All I have are the photos and the sweatshirt. It was the scariest thing I've ever had to deal with. I'm glad it's over now. It's still pretty interesting though. I hated him, and from his remarks he definitely wasn't too fond of me either. But if it wasn't for that dark hooded figure I never would be able to lose this much weight. I decided to post on a few 'supernatural' forums on the internet about the man. I wanted to know if people have seen someone like I did. I got a few replies. All who have lost a great deal of weight. All I can say is thank you, but I hate you. I currently weigh 190 pounds. If I keep the weight off, I'll keep him off.